I think the thing with bad habits is you never really outgrow them. You can put markers on the wall to see how much you've grown but each time you look you'll only be disappointed to see you're still short of what you need. And art. Oh, can art make you lose your mind. You go into a space most people are afraid to be in for not many like facing their fears, much less their sins. But this craft of mine makes me go back to them again and again no matter how many times I've said they've been replaced by Love so real it's insane. So, I guess, not much has changed since the last time I've been in this bed. This chamber of sins and regret clinging to me like clothes on a hot summer's day. I try thinking of an escape but the only way through is facing them again and giving myself grace to make mistakes and I don't think I can do that. Not if I can't fully erase my past. I won't waste my time risking my life. You see, I'm so sick of the grime I'm living in! But there you stand as a beacon of hope and Light at the end of the tunnel. Amity doesn't seem so far away when your voice reminds me of who I am: Beloved daughter of the king. O save me, save me, save me! It seems like all I'm ever good at is shooting at my own body. "Rode hard and put away wet" is what they said and that is exactly what I feel. Poetry has probably dramatized this but who cares? As long as you get something out, right? For your craft! you'd do anything to save it! I run around the whole court and come back without the ball. And if words are really my only reprieve then fine, so be it! I won't try to change these crooked lines I was born in. Crooked bones and misplaced fire missiles firing at me, pointing a finger at me, THAT'S ME!! The one who's nodding her head at everything you've just said; "that's reality," she said. I can't change who I am so I guess I'll just have to make the most of it.